


Enforced Forgiveness.

by millygal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Dean Winchester, M/M, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:17:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The heavenly host have a strange sense of humor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enforced Forgiveness.

**Title:** Enforced Forgiveness.  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Pairing/Characters:** Sam/Dean, Bobby, Castiel  
 **Word Count:** 3,180  
 **Summary:** The heavenly host have a strange sense of humor  
 **Warning:** Up to Season 5 spoilers.  


  
If they'd known then what they know now, maybe things would've been different, maybe, but neither brother worries too much about it. Not these days.

The memories are still fresh, fresh as a sunrise on a spring day, and for all they wish they could forget sometimes, knowing the how and the why occasionally helps.

Sam doesn't remember those first few hours after, after his death defying Evil Knievel impression. Dean'd had to fill in the gaps.

When Sam'd thrown himself down that hole, when he'd dragged Michael/Adam in on top of himself, Dean'd never envisioned a future quite like this.

As a thank you from the heavenly host, a thank you that Dean didn't want and wasn't willing to accept, the powers that be had decided to make him a halo'd warrior.

Heavenly host is a little out there, more like bedraggled bunch of mutineers with a handful of powers left to their name. But for all their pathetic-ness, they were smart, and turning a Winchester into a member of the guard was more to do with protection than payments due.

Sneaky bastards.

A friggin' angel.

Dean, a guy who drank and fucked his way through every town he came across, a man so hell bent on derailing the majority of heaven's plans that he'd let his baby brother throw himself head first into the pit, whilst being worn by the very first mutineer.

How fucking ironic.

The brothers had fought in a war, on the side of the fallen, to stop the first fallen, numero uno, from kicking his own big brother's ass in celebrity angel death match 2009.

And the days leading up to Sam's leap of faith had been torture for Dean. Knowing that Sam was gonna pay the ultimate price for defending their world against two overgrown overbearing toddlers throwing a tantrum.

And there in lies the kicker of all kickers. The god squad, the one's who'd gone to bat for humanity, were willing to make Dean an angel despite the fact they knew exactly what he and his baby brother had given into in those final days.

Those last 72 hours of life on earth with Sam still walking and talking and taking the piss and being most definitely all Sam, had been too much for Dean. The years of harbouring feelings that should've had his ass frying in the pit til the end of days had bubbled over into a frenzied need to feel flesh against flesh.

He could've kicked himself, years spent pining for a man who'd been doing exactly the same in every motel room in the country.

How many precious nights had they wasted avoiding eye contact, sitting as far away from each other as possible. All in the name of what was 'right'.

Well fuck right, fuck it with a  rusty pike.

They'd admitted, finally, what the never ending pissing contests had all been about. Years of pent up frustration at not being able to take what they so desperately wanted.

Dean's not sure whether letting go and crawling into his brother's arms was such a stella idea, especially when three days later he had to lean against the impala, Bobby dead at his feet, pieces of Cas dripping from his hair, beaten and bloody, and watch as the other half of his soul took a nose dive.

************************************************************

When Cas materialises in front of him, in perfect working order, he wants to rip him to pieces again for simply being alive when Sammy is stuck in the pit.

He touches a finger to Dean's forehead, removes all traces of Lucifer's handiwork.

As Cas turns towards Bobby, laying on the ground, neck at an unnatural angle, Dean realises he's been holding his breath. When Cas bends and Bobby shoots up two seconds later, a small amount of the crushing pain grinding against his heart has disappeared.

It dulls the pain some, like a fifth of Jack.

***********************************************

When Bobby finally manages to drag Dean's ass back to his place, Dean's red eyed, furious and spent. It's taken him two hours to be able to pull him away from that field.

Cas disappeared soon after Bobby started breathing again, stating he was required to fix the mess in heaven. Leaving Bobby to watch Dean scream at the sky like a banshee, begging and arguing and railing until his lungs have collapsed in on themselves and his legs can no longer hold him up.

Finally, after pounding his fists so hard on the ground that he's broken the skin all over again, Bobby manages to get him to his car.

Bobby watches Dean fall into a sleep so deep he fears the older of the two brother's has finally given up and passed on. He keeps holding a hand under Dean's nose just to check for breath.

As Bobby sits in the dark, watching the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest, Cas appears, scaring the spit out of him, "Bloody hell Cas!"

"I am sorry Bobby, but I require a word with Dean."

Bobby shakes his head, stands in front of Dean and plants his feet, "No, Cas come on, he's been through enough. Let him sleep."

Cas simply nods his head and Bobby finds himself sat back at his tatty dining table again, "I am sorry but it's of great importance"

Still trying to find his insides, Bobby watches as Cas leans down and shakes Dean into consciousness, "Dean, I need a word."

Bobby's heart breaks to see Dean come to. The same thing that happens to most people when they fall into such a complete sleep has happened to Dean, he's forgotten, just for a moment, what went on before he'd left the waking world.

Seeing that knowledge come crashing back into his head makes Bobby wince in pain for his adopted son.

"What is it Cas? Don't you think I've done enough for you feathered ass hats at this point!"

Cas has the good grace to look ashamed, or as close to ashamed as the bird brained messenger ever gets, "Like I said to Bobby, it's important. We've been discussing the situation and...."

Dean pulls himself into a sitting position and pins the angel with such a venomous look Cas's words dry up, "If ever there's a time I don't fucking care what you lot of dicks have been 'discussing' it's now. Come on man, piss off and leave me be, I'm done."

Bobby Won't ever forget the image of an angel of the lord squaring his shoulders in order to have the jewels to talk to a mortal, it'll be burned into his brain for as long as he still stumbles about on this god forsaken spit of dirt.

"Dean, you are not 'done' as you say."

To stop Dean interrupting, Cas forges on as quickly as possible, "We have decided to reward your sacrifices with a place in the garrison."

Ten seconds is all it takes for Dean to be off the sofa and in Cas's face, "No way, NO WAY, I don't want a place in your fucked up guard. I didn't think you could make human's into angels anyway, and even if you can, the answer is hell no!"

To the angel's credit, he doesn't shrink back from Dean's anger, "The decision is already made, you are a part of our order now, we need you to take up arms with us. The anarchy in heaven is worse than I suspected, we need to....what is it you would say, 'Clean house'."

At Cas's words, Dean cocks his head to one side and listens, sure enough, he can hear voices, voices that sound like fireflies dancing on golden threads, "You take it back, Cas, take it back, now!"

Wrapping his hand round Cas's throat, and for the first time ever feeling as though he could snap it, Dean squeezes, hard, "Take.It.Back!"

Reaching up and peeling Dean's fingers away, Cas shakes his head and puts a hand on Dean's shoulder.

Bobby will never be sure if the angel is brave or just plain stupid, because it's obvious even to him that Dean's about ready to snap it off.

"We need you, we cannot win this fight without you."

"That was your argument last time and fucking look at what happened. My brother's stuck downstairs playing chew toy to Lucifer and Michael, not to mention Michael rode my other fuckin' brother into the pit. No, there is no way in heaven hell or anywheres in between that I am going to stand at your right hand while you clean up yet another of your fucking messes Cas. Now back off, make me human again, right fucking now."

"What if I told you Sam was safe"

Dean almost falls over, "What!"

"Sam's safe"

"Where in the hell is he then, bring him here, now."

"I can't do that, he's still in hell."

Dean hits the sofa so hard Bobby thinks he'll have to go out and steal another one, cutting across the anger, Bobby pipes up before he ends up with a half a house and angel wing indents in his walls, "What you talking about Cas. How can Sam be safe, if he's still in hell?"

And that's how they'd gotten to Dean, how they'd made him agree to being part of the greater good. As always, Sammy was his one weakness.

"We have removed him from the pit. He is seated at the head of hell."

There's no air in the room, both Dean and Bobby feel it being sucked from around them, "My brother can't be king of hell! He can't, he's...he's...what about Lucy, isn't he still wearing Sam like a clown costume!"

"No. We've managed to extract Lucifer from Sam's body. He is solely Sam. But we need someone to run hell Dean. Without a leader, the demons will begin a rampage on earth that will devastate everything we've worked to save."

Dean's heart breaks, shatters into tiny pieces he can't see how to stitch back. His baby brother, the king of hell. Everything he'd had nightmares about every night since they'd found out about yellow eye's plans.

Hanging his head, Dean lets one solitary tear roll down his cheek, "Why?"

His voice is so small, Bobby wants to break all manly protocols and wrap the man into a bear hug hard enough to break bone.

"Better the devil you know."

Dean doesn't have the energy to even look at Bobby, he nods and lets his chin rest against his chest.

"That your plan Cas. Seat Sammy at the head of all hell and drag me upstairs to make sure I keep an eye?"

Cas hasn't moved, he's stood, equal distance between Dean and Bobby, stating facts that are breaking everyone's head, not even phased, "No, Dean. Sam's destiny was clear, as was yours. We may not have wanted the earth destroyed, but there is no denying where you both belong. You were designed to be Michael's vessel, Sam Lucifer's. You have your places in the grand scheme, you must fill the shoes laid out for you."

"But, what am I gonna do without him, I can't watch him run hell and never be able to speak to him again. We don't function apart. You of all people know that's true, you must have been watching, in the days before...before..."

He can't bring himself to say it, to reawaken the pain of watching Sam plummet down the rabbit hole.

"You can see him."

Dean's head shoots up, he eyes Cas with something dangerously close to hope, "I can!"

"You are brothers, and yes, we know of the final step you took, of the bonding of your souls. We don't care. We have never cared. We don't see in sex or body, we see in souls. Michael and Lucifer were...bonded. That was part of why the fall out from Lucifer's betrayal was so hard for heaven to take, Michael all but decimated the fields of gold when his brother fell."

Dean screws his face up into a grotesque mask of disgust, "Oh god, I never needed to have that image rattling round in my brain. Lucy and Mike, they, they were..."

"Exactly as you and Sam."

"Oh. What do you mean I can see him?"

"The grand scheme, the design by my father, it had always included heaven and hell working as one. We need hell as an incentive to aim for heaven. The reason it didn't work that way is because of the grudges held by Michael and Lucifer. Now Sam is there, you are allowed, meant even, to be a part of his destiny, and he your's"

Dean feels a physical 'snap' a cutting of all threads holding his resolve in place. He can see Sammy, he can hold him and have him and feel him breathing again.

"What do I have to do?"

*****************************************************************

And that had been that, no more human for Dean, no more fighting the good fight topside.

Instead he's been 'cleaning house' for the remnants of the heavenly guard.

It's not been so bad, he's wicked strong, he can blast a demon back to hell with a flick of his wrist and he never has to do another sit up again, 'cos his body never seems to leave peak physical condition.

Silver linings.

After Dean'd stopped wanting to make Castiel sit on his own angel blade, he'd stopped and listened to the terms.

Twelve times a year, forty eight hours, he and his brother are allowed to be together, how ever they see fit. Whether that's hopping the bullet to the nearest bar and drinking til they can't see straight, or spending the entire time sweaty and naked.

Dealer's choice.

Sam's different, I mean come on, time spent wrangling the frayed souls in hell will do that to you. But no, it's not just that, he's more demon that human now. Instead of black though, his eyes turn an almost ethereal shade of their original colour. When angered, when faced with some dick in some bar trying to start a fight on one of the twenty four days out of the year that Sam and Dean can spend as themselves, his eyes become all grass green with flecks of gold ringing what should be his pupils.

If Dean's honest, it's fucking hot.

He's fully aware that he should feel repulsed by this new and improved version of his baby brother, but he can't really talk, seen as he has to wear sunglasses everywhere now. His eyes are whiter than white. Milky with no definition. A 'gift' from the guard. The ability to be able to simply look at a demon and melt his shit.

They talk the rest of the year, they have to, Sam's in charge downstairs and Dean's the 'liaison' so they do get to see each other, they just have to stay within the bounds of their contracts.

Sucks balls but beggars can't be choosers.

When they manage to duck the god squad for those two days a month, Dean still has trouble being in the same room as Sam for the first hour. His power is all encompassing, you can feel it seeping from his pores. But by all accounts, Sam has the same trouble with Dean.

He packs a pretty impressive punch these days.

***********************************************

Once again they're in some shitty bar, knocking back every funny coloured drink they can find. It's two hours into their furlough and they've decided to see how many drinks it takes to get them pissed this time.

This is one of the funner aspects, they can drink til the bar runs dry but nine times out of ten they can just about feel that happy buzz, the one that makes great sex even better or a bar fight seem like a dance to the duke box.

"Come on Sammy, you're not even trying."

Sam smiles, runs a finger up his brother's arm and knocks back another lurid orange drink with an umbrella, "Look, you try getting drunk when you've got half of hell and some of heaven buzzing around in your skull. It's distracting!"

Chuckling, Dean throws his own drink back and waves his hand at the bartender, "When's Bobby getting here?"

"He said give him a couple hours, just taking out a vamps nest in Oregon, shouldn't be long now."

That was another bit of the deal, much to Bobby's annoyance and the brother's amusement.

Their very own Yoda, he doesn't age. Well, not the way other human's do. Neither Dean or Sam could face the prospect of watching Bobby die, not as soon as he would've as a hunter anyway, so they'd bartered for his life.

No demon deals, no angel deals, just a lengthening of his years. Like dog years in reverse.

When Dean'd appeared to Bobby and used that same analogy, Bobby'd thrown several very sharp bits of kit at him, "Cheeky bastard. Dog years. And who says I wanna stay here on this shit rickety train to nowhere, huh!"

"Come on Bobby, we aren't that dickish. When you wanna go, when you've really had enough, we'll let you, we'll cut the cord and you can sail on up. Be at peace. But me and Sam couldn't just watch you kick it earlier than intended because you got a death wish and a set of sharpened steak knives. Okay?"

Bobby'd looked like he was gonna throttle the newly winged Winchester, but under all his bullshit, Dean could see how much the thought had meant to him, "Fine! But when I want off, you'll give me my pass?"

"Yes."

"In that case, when you get your ten second sit down every month, I want a little face time, I aint hanging around on this rock without a visit once in a while."

Dean had grinned and nodded and poof, gone.

"Smug fucker."

And so, they sit, drinking and laughing and ignoring the stares from other bar flies, waiting to see the guy they've thought of as a father for the last fifty years.

"You two idjits gonna buy a guy a brew."

They both turn and wrap Bobby in a hug.

"Get off ya pair of pillocks, you know you two give me the irrits when you do that."

Extracting himself and plonking down at the bar between them, he eyes the King of Hell and the Enforcer of Heaven and marvels at the way things turned out, "Still eludes my fine brain why you two decided to become so bloody touchy feely the minute you got promoted."

"Something to do with knowing what you got while you got it Bobby."

He turns to Dean, gives him a withering look and wiggles his fingers at the poor perplexed guy behind the bar, "Well stop it, it makes my skin itch"

Sam smirks at Dean over Bobby's shoulder, raises an eyebrow and plants a wet smacker on the back of the balding man's head, "Sure thing Bobby, sure thing."


End file.
